Pathway to Japanese Literature

Today I shall speak about the Mongols of the Yuan era—though I imagine many of you here at this institution have already studied some Oriental history, and likely learned about it in secondary school as well, so you probably know most of what I'll discuss.
"The most fascinating period in Oriental history is undoubtedly the Mongol era, not only due to the vast scope of their activities but also because its influence on later generations proved remarkably far-reaching."
To give an example, the discovery of America—that is, the discovery of the New World—was by no means an accidental occurrence.
Of course, it was Columbus of Italy who made the discovery, but the most significant cause that led him to discover this New World was deeply connected to the rise of the Mongols.
It was due to the rise of the Mongols that China became known to the West, and it was with the aim of reaching that China and India that Columbus set out westward, ultimately arriving in America.

"Not only is this an era of great interest in Oriental history, but I daresay there exists no period in world history as fascinating as the Mongol age!" (Applause). "While we have figures like Alexander of Greece and Caesar of Rome who campaigned vigorously across vast territories—and countless other heroes emerged thereafter—their achievements compared to the Mongols' are like stars before the sun, utterly beyond comparison." "However today, I shall not discuss what grand enterprises the Mongols undertook or what wars they fought." "That material, I presume, you've already encountered through standard Oriental history courses." "You might know of Genghis Khan conquering the Western Regions, Subutai and Jebe's Russian campaigns, or how a decade later his grandson Batu pushed from Russia into Hungary, Germany and Italy—and how another twenty years hence, Hulagu Khan, likewise Genghis' grandson, marched from Persia to subjugate Syria. But these tales have become common knowledge nowadays; their general outlines can be heard anywhere. Therefore I wish to advance further and address what condition the Mongols themselves were in during those times—how they lived, what dwellings they inhabited, what foods they consumed."

This matter has until now been a problem that almost no one has paid much attention to.
Among these aspects, there are things that seem quite peculiar from our modern perspective.
This kind of talk might perhaps prove less thrilling than accounts of Mongol warfare as you listen, but in truth it is the more instructive matter—for within these details lies the very foundation of the great achievements accomplished by the Mongols.
However, as I mentioned earlier, since this is a problem that no one has properly investigated until now—though I resolved to discuss it here and actually began looking into it about three days ago—what with various tasks at hand, I’ve found it rather difficult to make much progress (laughter arises).
"So today, well, since the time has come, I’ve had no choice but to come out here—though if I may voice my own wish, delaying another two or three days would let me present this talk before you all in a slightly more engaging and polished manner. But as things stand now, there’s simply no helping it (laughter arises)."

Now, when investigating what state the Mongols of the Yuan era were truly in, Chinese texts prove scarcely useful as references.
I won't claim they're entirely without merit—it's precisely like sifting through sand for gold flakes—you might occasionally find specks if you persist, but mishandle the task and it becomes an exercise in futility.
So then, what constitutes our primary material for understanding Yuan-era Mongol customs? It lies in perusing European travelogues from that period.

During the Yuan era, since the Mongols had established territories stretching from Korea in the east to the borders of Russia and Hungary in the west—spanning the Asian continent all the way to Europe—travel between these regions became far more accessible, leading numerous Europeans to visit.
There was indeed no shortage of such visitors.
Yet among them were remarkably negligent individuals—some who left no records despite journeying through such an epoch, others whose occasional writings proved of scant reference value—though there also existed exceptional figures who produced travelogues furnishing us with historical materials indispensable today.
These travelogues form our primary sources.
Generally speaking, people seldom document their own nation's customs and practices.
It falls to foreigners to record them.
While natives pay little heed to their own ways, foreign observers perceive them as peculiar or novel—details that capture their attention and merit documentation.
Thus when studying the customs of bygone nations, we invariably find greater value in accounts by foreign visitors to those lands than in domestic records.
Foreign observers attend to the minutest particulars.
The Yuan era proved no exception.
As I mentioned earlier, rather than relying on Chinese chronicles, we find greater utility in the travel writings of foreigners who ventured into Mongol territories during that period.
Among these exist numerous examples, but foremost we have Plan Carpin—or Plano Carpini—followed by another called William of Rubruk—or Gulielmus de Rubruquis.
Third comes Marcopolo—the renowned figure.

"The first person we'll discuss is Plano Carpini—though I must warn you I tend to explain things through six distinct aspects—but rest assured remembering these six points will prove valuable later (laughter). This Plano Carpini departed Europe in 1245 and returned there in 1247. His entire absence spanned exactly three years. He journeyed to Mongolia as an envoy under orders from Pope Innocent IV. This occurred during the reign of Güyük Khan, a grandson of Genghis Khan. During this mission, he stayed in Mongolia from July to November 1246—five months total—observing Mongol customs. He left detailed records of these observations. Though his round trip between Europe took three years, his actual time spent investigating Mongol affairs—as I mentioned—lasted only from July through November 1246; he departed Mongolia that November to begin his return journey."

Next was William of Rubruck—this man went to Mongolia under orders from King Saint Louis of France, which occurred during the time of Möngke Khan, grandson of Genghis Khan, who succeeded Güyük Khan. He departed Europe in 1253 and returned in 1255, taking three years in total, but his stay in Mongolia lasted slightly longer than Plano Carpini’s—from December 1253 to August of the following year, 1245—amounting to a full nine months. He thoroughly observed the conditions of Mongolia over nine months.

Then, the last one—Marco Polo—whom I believe you are all quite familiar with, departed Europe in 1271 and returned in 1295.
He had been absent from Europe for about twenty-five years.
Having left at seventeen, he returned around forty-two.
However, his stay in Mongolia did not span this entire period.
He remained there from 1275 to 1292—some eighteen years—making his tenure the longest.
Yet from 1271 until 1295, this man had been away from his Venetian home altogether before finally returning after a quarter-century.
When he arrived back dressed head-to-toe in Mongol furs after twenty-five years' absence, his townsfolk—who'd long presumed him dead—
now imagined he'd become a Buddha (though Christians have no such concept) and had already settled his estate, with relatives maintaining his vacant house.
But when this unrecognizable figure appeared in outlandish garb,
even former intimates protested, "This can't be Marco Polo—he never had such white hair!" (Laughter) conflating their youthful comrade with this weathered stranger.
Thus cornered,
Marco eventually convinced them through persistent explanations and reclaimed his ancestral home.
These three travelers' accounts I've outlined form our prime sources for studying Mongol customs.

“There are indeed numerous other accounts, but I intend to base my discussion primarily on the travelogues of these three individuals. However, as I mentioned earlier, compiling coherent information from these books turned out to be quite an arduous task. When I first began working on it, I thought I could manage in a day or two, but discovered it actually required nearly a week’s effort. Given these circumstances, I fear today’s presentation will inevitably remain rather incomplete.”

Houses (Dwellings) - I thought I would discuss houses first.
The term 'houses' might not have been appropriate.
Or perhaps it would have been more fitting to call them dwellings.
Of course, the Mongols lived in tents.
This was by no means unusual, as all the barbarian tribes who had inhabited northern China before the Mongols—the Xiongnu, Tujue, and others—had likewise lived in tents, meaning the Mongols weren't unique in this regard. Thus there was nothing particularly remarkable about it. However, when it came to understanding what shape these tents took or their specific characteristics among the Xiongnu and Tujue, we found ourselves largely in the dark.
When it came to the Mongols though, we could understand them most clearly through the records of those three individuals mentioned earlier; therefore, I thought I would begin by discussing that matter.

The tents are assembled into a circular shape using wood.
They are constructed by gathering tree branches into a circular shape, with edges wrapped in leather as walls.
They typically coat the leather with substances like white clay to whiten it.
Some parts are painted black, but white remains common.
The roof too forms a conical shape from branches.
Its top gets covered with leather.
A hole pierces the very center.
This opening serves as both smoke vent and skylight.
Thus when I sketch its form—like so—(draws diagram).
It becomes circular with only this aperture.
Here lies what I earlier called vent-and-light.
Mongols build fires at this central spot; smoke rises through here.
Of course flames burn inside dwellings hidden by leather walls—though I’ve exposed ours today for clarity (laughter).
They color this dual-purpose opening diversely:
Some gild it gold; others paint black or blue.
Tribes distinguish themselves through these hues.
Tent colors stay uniform—only roof openings vary.
None paint theirs red—or do they? My research missed crimson examples (audience guffaws)—blue/gold dominate.
Now consider dimensions.
Span between these points naturally varies.

Since high-status individuals resided in large tents and low-status individuals in small ones, it couldn't be called uniform; however, the largest tents had a diameter of thirty feet. They measured thirty feet square, making them quite spacious—about five or six ken (approximately 9 to 11 meters). Given that these circular structures were roughly the length of this room though wider in area due to their shape, their size became evident. Moreover, the entrance invariably faced southward, where a leather curtain hung that one needed to push aside when entering. The southern orientation of doorways wasn't unique to Mongols—all northern barbarian tribes followed this practice, whether Xiongnu, Tujue, or Uyghurs. Entrances never faced west or north due to Mongolia's prevailing winds and rains from those directions; south or east orientations provided better sunlight and warmth.

Within tents, fixed positions governed where people stayed (I'll draw another diagram). At the northernmost point facing south sat the household head near the central firepit—this spot served all his resting and sitting needs. Women and children occupied the left (eastern) side while men claimed the right (western) side. Though this covers living quarters, even Mongols of varying statuses possessed treasures requiring storage solutions.

Even if you call them warehouses, they differ from Japanese warehouses in that they too are made of tents.
They are the same shape as the tents mentioned earlier but slightly smaller and sturdier, constructed to be loaded onto camel-drawn carts.
In these warehouses are stored bedding, futons, quilts, and various other tools and treasures.
The number of these warehouses differs considerably according to status.
Distinguished individuals possess a hundred or even two hundred.
People with little do not possess even one (laughter arises).
And they arrange them in this manner.
Whether there are twenty or thirty—the exact number isn’t important—they invariably arrange them on both sides of their residential tents in this manner (draws a diagram at this point).
If there are about twenty carts, they line up ten here and ten there.
They serve exactly as a substitute for a wall.
These are never unloaded from the carts.
They are loaded onto camel-drawn carts.
If there are two hundred, they might arrange them in two layers or extend them lengthwise.
If there is a neighboring residence, they also place warehouses on both sides of it in the same manner, which results in the wall becoming double-layered.
If they don’t have a single warehouse themselves, the idea is to borrow their neighbor’s wall (laughter arises).
“If one were to store treasures and tools in warehouses arranged like this, you’d expect thieves to break in—but among the Mongols, there are no thieves.”
The Mongols do not engage in thievery at all.
As I will explain later, the Mongols constantly invade other countries and plunder their goods; whenever they wage war, they invariably loot enemy property.Yet among themselves,Mongols do not steal from one another.
The Mongols do not know things like keys or locks.
Because this is a leather warehouse,the idea of locking it with a key doesn’t occur to them.

Even if left wide open, there were no thieves.
Therefore, it was perfectly acceptable to leave them like this.
The Mongols would occasionally relocate their homes in pursuit of water and grass.
When transferring locations, they did not destroy what they had painstakingly built.
They loaded everything as-is onto large carts whose width measured remarkably large.
These spanned over three ken (approximately 5.45 meters).
From wheel to wheel on the cart—he drew a diagram while explaining—the larger ones measured twenty feet across, and they loaded the structures onto them just as they stood.
This was quite sizable, but as I mentioned earlier, since they consisted of tree branches assembled and covered with hides, they were far lighter than moving a large Japanese house.
If enough people gathered together, loading them posed no difficulty whatsoever.
However, as noted before, when dealing with thirty-foot-wide structures, part naturally extended beyond the wheels.
When loaded up, they looked like this.
Smaller ones naturally fit neatly onto these carts.
The entrance still faced forward in this orientation during loading.
These were then pulled by oxen.
Any number of oxen would do as long as they moved them along—though in extreme cases they might use twenty-two.
Some used three oxen; others five.
For truly massive loads, twenty-two oxen were employed.
They positioned eleven oxen in front and brought another eleven behind them, then had the driver mount here.
Mongol oxen and horses proved extremely docile—unlike their Japanese counterparts prone to unruly behavior—so simply holding a whip here to indicate direction sufficed for gentle progress.
Thus they conducted their relocations.

This was men’s work, but occasionally women could handle it with ease.
Since Mongol women were remarkably strong, a single woman could manage twenty or thirty horse-drawn carts by herself.

Since the horses don't act up along the way，I'll leave our discussion of dwellings at that and move on to

Clothing and Headgear - The clothing worn by Mongols consisted of silk or cotton garments in summer.
These were mostly imported from China.
Cotton was transported from Persia.
However, in winter they wore fur.
As it was a cold region, the furs came from Russia or neighboring areas like Bulgaria.
After donning fur garments, Mongols typically wore two overcoats.
Both were fur-lined coats.
The undercoat had its fur on the inner side.
The outer coat displayed fur on the exterior.
If one were to cut through someone wearing Mongol coats, fur would face both toward the body and outward.
They wore two such layers.
As for the animals whose pelts they used - wolves and foxes.
This was standard practice.
They made coats from fox or wolf fur.
However, the poor generally used dog fur for their coats.
Needless to say, these coats served as cold-weather gear that they removed and stored when inside their tents.
Regarding Mongol men's facial hair - they did not grow beards.
This wasn't to say beards were entirely absent, but they were exceedingly rare.
Consequently, they refrained from growing facial hair.
Even when allowing growth, only mustaches beneath the nose appeared.

However, most did not grow it. Those who did were few. The mustache under the nose is written with the Chinese character 髭. The term '鬚' refers to beard styles like that of Tenjin-sama, while beards grown below the ears—such as Mr. Enomoto's—are written with '髯'. Mongols grew neither beards nor goatees; their only cultivated facial hair was this mustache here. Well, most Japanese gentlemen also grew mustaches under their noses just like the Mongols (laughter arose).

Next, regarding their heads—this is quite fascinating.
You might not fully realize this yet, but the Mongols wore their hair in braids.
This braided hairstyle was rather unique.
Ethnic groups practicing this style included not only the Qing people of today but also those like the Northern Wei from China's Northern Dynasties period—who established states in China proper long before the Mongols and were mockingly called "Suolu" (Braided Barbarians) for this very custom. However, the exact styling methods remain unclear.
The Mongols too braided their hair, though people rarely notice the specifics—here's the interesting part: they shaved off most of their hair.
They left only a forelock on the forehead.
This forelock hung down to the eyebrows. Then they completely shaved all surrounding areas (drawing a diagram here), leaving just a small section above each ear.
They grew this remaining hair as long as possible, braided it, and let it hang beside their ears.
"So how should I draw this? Well... I'm utterly hopeless at sketching, but like this—" (laughter erupted) "—like this."
They wore two braids dangling by both ears.
The sole remaining forelock looked rather endearing.
Now then, if you examine illustrations of events like the Mongol invasions of Japan closely, you'll notice those two braids hanging down.

Next，women’s clothing was the same as men’s．Thus，until they married，to foreigners they were utterly indistinguishable as men or women．Upon marrying，their hairstyle adornments differed slightly．Clothing was identical for both genders，with only women’s garments being slightly longer．Though longer，there was almost no discernible difference．Naturally，Mongol clothing matched Japan’s in being fastened on the right．Turks fastened theirs on the left，but Mongols，like Japanese，used the right．The women’s hairstyle proved rather fascinating．Explaining it verbally would only have bred confusion．A drawing conveyed it better．When marrying，they shaved off the front half of their hair．They left only the hair at the back of the head．They tied it up．Then，taking that tied-up hair，they donned a large object resembling what we today call a Korean hat（at this point he drew a diagram）．It resembled wearing an inverted bowl or plate．Fitted neatly atop the head，its brim protruded．The Mongols called this a Bocca．It was fashioned from tree bark．Beautiful silk stretched over its surface．From the headdress’s upper edge extended a long，square-shaped object．

The sides of this long, square-shaped object had holes made in them. They placed various decorations there—these included items like bird feathers. It didn’t have to be bird feathers; anything would do. Or they might use silk cloth or such materials. Then at the very top where it tapered narrowest，they attached peacock feathers as decoration.The headdress measured about two shaku and several sun in height from this point to that，with longer ones reaching approximately three shaku.This tall headdress naturally came with a chin strap，which was securely fastened beneath the jaw.Mongol women rode horses.They practiced horseback riding from a young age.When Mongol women wearing this *Bocca* were seen riding horses from afar，it looked exactly like cavalrymen advancing.When observing many such women gathering and riding together in formation，they appeared as though cavalry troops were charging toward one’s position.The reason was that the top of the *Bocca* resembled cavalry spears（laughter arose），and its plate-like part looked like helmets，so timid foreigners couldn’t help fleeing even at the sight of Mongol women—they thought Mongol cavalry were approaching.Next，Mongol women were often plump，and their noses were flat.When Japanese people see Westerners，they tend to remark on their prominent，hawk-like noses，but let me remind you：those gentlemen I mentioned earlier—Plano Carpini and Rubruck—being Westerners themselves，undoubtedly possessed such prominent noses.So when they saw Mongols，the latter’s noses appeared flat.Rather than merely flat，they seemed practically nonexistent.It was written that there were simply two holes in the very center of their faces（laughter arose）.Since their noses were so low，they must have appeared almost noseless when viewed thus.

They wrote something awful.
They said there were two holes right in the middle of the face.
Women in both the West and Japan applied makeup to their faces, but Mongol women often applied black substances to theirs.
Their faces weren't slightly darkened with black substances—they applied it jet-black, making them appear quite fearsome.
When going outside, they applied a black substance to their faces.
In Japan they applied a white substance, but the Mongols applied a black one.

Next came the discussion of food and drink.

On the topic of food and drink—first starting with beverages—the Mongols drank beverages made from rice or wheat during winter months. These were mostly imported from China. At times they drank some wine imported from Persia. However, this constituted only a very small amount, and what they commonly used—particularly during summer—was mare's milk. Mare's milk. They did not drink it raw but instead consumed a liquor called kumis made from fermented mare's milk. They would milk the mares, pack large quantities into leather bags, securely tie them, then beat the bags with large sticks. This generated heat allowing natural fermentation to occur through that warmth. The resulting brew appeared quite sour. The Mongols greatly favored this drink—it was their most beloved beverage. For figures like the emperor or generals, they used a more refined version called Karakumis. This seemed considerably sweeter—Karakumis being made by taking the finest parts and aging them through years of thorough refinement. Ordinary people could not drink this; only those of status could partake. Since the Mongols made such extensive use of kumis and Karakumis, most people of status typically kept great numbers of mares to milk them daily. For example, someone like Batu maintained three thousand mares as his personal property.

He had it milked daily to make his own beverage.
When drinking alcohol, the Mongols first offered it to their household deity.
Then before drinking at home, the household servant took the liquor outside the tent and scattered it three times each toward the east, west, south, and north.
They performed various rituals—offering it to the wind god or declaring it for specific deities.
In any case, he scattered it three times southward, three times eastward, and three times northward in this fashion before the household members drank.
While the master drank, other men clapped their hands and danced before him to enliven the occasion; when the mistress drank, other women danced before her.
They sometimes played musical instruments too.

Another interesting custom was how the Mongols offered alcohol to guests.
When serving kumis to visitors, one server would approach holding a filled cup while two others flanked them on either side—the trio advancing together toward their intended recipient.
At this gesture, the guest—being Mongol and never one to refuse kumis—would eagerly reach for it only to have them withdraw.
After a moment they would proffer it anew.
When hands extended again they retreated once more.
They invariably repeated this presentation three or four times—snatching back the cup at each attempted grasp—until finally permitting consumption on the fourth or fifth approach. With throats now audibly yearning from anticipation, recipients reportedly found this delayed draught exceptionally savory (laughter arose).

Now, regarding their food—the Mongols, or rather not just the Mongols but all northern barbarian tribes in general, had no rice whatsoever. Since hunting wild beasts constituted their sole sustenance, they conserved food rigorously in daily life. Among these groups, the Mongols represented the most extreme case—they would eat anything.
They ate whatever they found.
They ate rats.
They even ate dead rats.
During plagues this was dangerous (laughter), though few accounts mention Mongols contracting pestilence.
They ate dead rats.
There was an amusing story that they even consumed lice (laughter).
There were accounts of Mongols addressing foreigners: "Do you not eat these lice? These creatures have sucked our children's blood and devoured their flesh! How could anyone refrain from consuming animals that feed on human flesh and blood?" while offering them lice.
If one considered it realistically—since even grass-eating animals tasted decent—lice that didn't consume blood or flesh might have been far more palatable (laughter).
They ate all sorts of things; when dining, they naturally used their hands.
Having no luxuries like chopsticks or forks, they grabbed food manually.
After eating, they casually wiped their hands on boots.
When outdoors, they used available grass instead.

The Mongols, as I mentioned earlier, consumed an extremely small amount of food overall and were therefore highly frugal with their provisions—even when hosting around a hundred guests, they would slaughter just one small pig or something similar.
Therefore, it was scarcely enough to go around for everyone.
However, the Mongols ate extremely little, and yet became full from it.
For about a hundred guests, they would butcher just one small animal like that, and that was all there was to it.
They could not expect luxurious feasts like the Japanese, who served two or three dishes.
Moreover, they never discarded the bones from what had been cut.
They did not engage in such extravagances as discarding bones or the like.
If there were bones that had been cut for them, they always placed those bones into a leather bag hanging at their waist.
When they became hungry, they took them out, licked them, and put them back in.
After licking them repeatedly until they became no different from chewing wood, they finally discarded them.
They never did such extravagant things as going to a banquet and leaving behind bones just because they had some.
They carefully preserved them and took them out to lick when they had time.
They were remarkably frugal when it came to food.
Therefore, those who traveled to Mongolia from Europe—such as Plano Carpini and Rubruck, whom I mentioned earlier—were guests to the Mongols, so of course the Mongol government provided them with food.
However, even with that, it was still quite insufficient, and there were some people who cried from hunger.
When they were first given what they assumed was a single portion of food and ate it all at once, they later found themselves in great trouble upon hearing it was meant to last three portions.
Because the Mongols had small appetites, they thought people of other countries also had small ones.
While such extreme food scarcity would seem detrimental to health, this very condition proved greatly advantageous to the Mongols when it came to warfare.
In situations like pursuit, they could chase down enemies while subsisting on almost no food for several days.
They were far superior to those so-called "wine bags and rice sacks"—gluttonous yet talentless individuals.

This has become quite a lengthy talk, but I will save the discussion of what they do during war for the very end—this part is rather interesting.

Regarding warfare—ordinarily, of course, the Mongols' occupation was pastoralism. When warfare arose, all those Mongols normally engaged in pastoralism were conscripted and became soldiers. Soldiers did not receive salaries. No matter how many years they waged war, there was no need to incur foreign debt. The reason was that they made them work without pay. Instead, when they went to war, they distributed the spoils of war. When they went to war, they always took spoils of war. They waged war in order to loot. When distributing spoils of war—just as sumo wrestlers in those days received set portions, with ōzeki getting so much and sekiwake so much—there were officials who meticulously divided the loot through proportional allocation, assigning generals their designated shares and common soldiers their specified amounts. Those officials distributed the spoils of war to each individual. They made their living this way. In warfare, their aim wasn't to receive salaries but to divide the spoils of war, so no matter how many years they waged war, it posed no problem at all. And when it finally came to waging war, Mongol soldiers were mostly cavalry. The Mongols all practiced horse riding from a young age. They began practicing riding horses and shooting bows from around the age of three—so by seven or eight years old, they became quite fearsome. When Genghis Khan, the founding emperor of the Mongols, returned from his western campaigns, there was a river called Yemil near what is now the Altai Mountains—a small river indeed. At this river's edge came the young Kublai Khan, who would later become emperor, and his brother Hulagu—destined to rule Persia—to greet their grandfather Genghis Khan. At the time, Kublai was eleven years old and Hulagu eight, I believe. These children of eleven and eight went to welcome their grandfather returning from the west and hunted along the way as a gift: eight-year-old Hulagu shot and killed a deer while eleven-year-old Kublai brought down a rabbit with his arrow, earning praise from their grandfather. Now, Japanese people would find it quite difficult for eight-year-olds to kill deer or swift rabbits so easily—but Mongols were skilled hunters indeed. Therefore, they were skilled at riding horses and shooting bows.

When it came to warfare, each Mongol brought along a great number of horses. On average, they brought about eighteen horses. They didn’t ride all eighteen horses at once. When they rode one horse and it became exhausted, they switched to another. Therefore, their speed was beyond what people of other countries could imagine. This proved highly advantageous for launching surprise attacks on enemies. As I had mentioned before, since the Mongols ate extremely little, this proved highly advantageous during warfare. Not only that, but since they would eat anything, this was all the more advantageous during warfare.

According to the records of Plano Carpini, whom I mentioned earlier, the Mongols drank a cup of water mixed with millet powder each morning and spent their day.
They mixed water with millet powder, drank a cup of that, and then ate nothing else for the entire day.
They had such small appetites that foreigners found unimaginable.
They could go without eating anything for one or two days as needed and remained perfectly fine.
Even when fasting for about two days, they never uttered a word of complaint.
They went about humming tunes as usual, remaining perfectly cheerful.

In times of war, especially when pursuing enemies—for instance, during the recent pursuit in the Fengtian area—the Mongols would charge forward carrying absolutely nothing.
Then, when hunger struck, they dismounted from their horses and bled the animals' legs.
Since the horses had galloped vigorously until their legs were swollen with blood, the Mongols would suck this blood before remounting—continuing such warfare for about ten days.
Given that their supply units might be attacked by rear cavalry forces, they bore no resemblance to today's pampered soldiers with their elaborate tactical developments.
Their exceptional horsemanship and these resourceful methods when provisions ran out enabled tremendous speed.
And when it came time to wage war proper, the Mongols invariably chose winter.
Their campaign season spanned from autumn through early winter and into spring.

They never wage war during summer.
Summer is their season of truce—and there are several reasons for this.
First and foremost: since Mongols fight mounted on horseback, they let their horses rest fully during summer when grasses grow lush.
Horses only fatten properly come autumn.
This isn’t unique to Mongols—all northern barbarians from Xiongnu times onward exclusively invaded China in autumn! So much so that Chinese records literally term border defense preparations “autumn guarding.”
When early autumn brings plump horses, they seize this window.
That’s one reason they campaign in winter.
Second—Mongols loathe heat intensely.
There’s your second reason.
Thirdly: winter follows harvests when farmers across any land sit richest—raiding then yields maximum plunder.
Summer raids hit when last year’s stores near exhaustion; slim pickings force them to target winter.
Thus profit dictates choosing frostbitten months.
Fourth advantage? Winter freezes entire landscapes solid—rivers become ice roads needing no bridges.
Mongols are hopeless around liquid water!
But let it freeze? Suddenly they’re mobile masters.
Come summer’s flowing rivers? Utter disaster.
Water spells pure trouble for them.
Hence winter’s natural ice bridges make movement supremely convenient.
Fifth strategic boon: winter strips vegetation bare—visibility’s crystal clear.
Since Mongols invade foreign lands eventually, withered landscapes prevent ambushes from unexpected thickets.

In winter, when vegetation withered and visibility became ample, there was no concern about being ambushed by hidden troops even when venturing into unfamiliar foreign lands.
Therefore, based on such considerations, they chose winter.

Now then, regarding their military organization—the Mongols structured their forces using a decimal system with commanders for ten-man squads, hundred-man companies, thousand-man regiments, and ten-thousand-man divisions. They appointed one leader per ten soldiers, another per hundred, another per thousand, and another per ten thousand.

As for weaponry, bows and arrows naturally took precedence.

When heading to battle, each Mongol soldier carried two bows and three quivers of arrows.

They also brought files.

These files served to sharpen damaged arrowheads or repair nicked weapons.

Next came sieves.

They carried these sieves to foreign lands—in areas with poor water quality, they would scoop up muddy water, filter out sediment through the sieve, and drink the remaining liquid as purified water.

Grappling ropes formed another essential item.

These ropes proved vital when scaling fortress walls.

Units collectively carried tents.

Leather bags supplemented their gear.

These versatile bags served multiple purposes.

Then there were stone-hurling devices.

Though the Chinese character 礮 denotes catapults, these resembled Japanese well-sweeps—contraptions that flung massive stones against castle walls with thunderous impacts.

They possessed these stone-throwers—what we’d now call siege artillery—alongside another weapon: petroleum projectiles.

Special devices launched pots filled with petroleum.

In modern terms, these functioned like explosive shells.

They would lob an oil-filled pot into a fortress...

...then position themselves opposite and launch it with a resounding thud.

They carried those as well along with bags for holding stones.
These were used when filling castle moats.
They also prepared wide ladders.
They generally had those items at minimum.

When finally commencing war, they convened a council of ministers (what the Mongols called the Kuriltai).
In this council gathered Mongol royalty, ministers, and leaders from various departments.
Thereupon at this Kuriltai they decided all matters: which country to subjugate this time; when to depart for said campaign; what methods to employ; how to divide their forces; how many troops to deploy; who would serve as commander-in-chief; and every other detail besides.
Once these matters were fully settled, they departed for battle.
After deciding their target—as was nearly customary for the Mongols—they first dispatched envoys urging surrender upon their intended conquest.
"We intend to subjugate you due to these various deficiencies," they would declare, advising prompt capitulation.
"They're hardly likely to surrender gracefully." (Laughter erupted.)
This constituted their second procedure.
The third procedure followed when surrender was finally secured—when targets acknowledged their commands and submitted properly—whereupon substantial tributes of gold and grain were exacted.
"Given your land's populous prosperity," they'd demand corresponding payments—tens of thousands in silver or thousands of livestock—ordering every last coin owed.
Should targets refuse these demands or withhold payments only then would they march to attack.
Then when engaging enemies directly feigning retreats became their customary tactic for ambushing pursuers.
They fled first trapping chasing foes with hidden troops.
After enemies learned through bitter experience not to pursue fleeing Mongols new provocations were devised drawing garrisons from castles.
Yet when foes stubbornly refused these ruses remaining barricaded within walls they employed their catapults once more hurling stones.
Even flinging projectiles from flat ground proved ineffective against high walls prompting construction of artificial hills matching fortress heights.

They placed catapults atop it and hurled stones into the castle.
They launched stones weighing about a hundred kan—roughly 375 kilograms.
"If a hundred-kan stone comes crashing down on your head, you're in quite a fix!" (Laughter)
They hurled stones that required four men to move.
The stones' purpose wasn't to kill defenders but to demolish walls.
When stones ran scarce, they dragged out gravestones and millstones.
If stones remained unavailable, they soaked logs in water, weighted them with mud, and launched those.
After breaching walls, they filled moats using sandbags mentioned earlier, then charged through collapsed sections.
Should walls hold, they deployed ladders or scaling ropes.
When all else failed, they flung petroleum pots lit aflame into enemy ranks.
This chaos let them storm through defenses.
Upon capturing a fortress, they first rescued artists and craftsmen—carpenters, plasterers—from the besieged.
The Mongols prized these specialists above all others, sparing them while slaughtering the rest.
They distributed these captives as war spoils among commanders—seven artists here, five carpenters there.
Those claimed by the Emperor were shipped straight to Mongolia.
Next came strong young men fit for labor or cannon fodder—captured to spearhead future assaults.
Whenever attacking a new fortress, Mongols placed prisoners from their last conquest at the vanguard.
The defenders faced an impossible choice.
Hearing battle cries and grabbing weapons, they'd find former comrades—now pitiful captives—leading the charge against them, sapping their will to hurl defensive timbers.

The Mongol soldiers used young captives taken from nearby areas as their vanguard, assigning all dangerous tasks—such as constructing the aforementioned mounds for catapults or conducting civil engineering works near enemy positions—to the captives.
The Mongols themselves remained safely in the rear, merely supervising while declaring that vanguard troops could not retreat—they never approached dangerous areas.
The captives forced into labor worked under the threat of execution if they retreated; since they would be killed regardless, they labored on the assumption that minimal effort might let them survive.
The castle defenders found themselves increasingly cornered.
Though burning with desire to kill the detestable Mongols, they saw no trace of them—the only immediate threats being fellow countrymen or what appeared to be relatives from neighboring castles—leaving them utterly demoralized.
"Given how Japan itself received seventy or eighty thousand prisoners," Kuwabara interjected with dark humor, "perhaps we ought to try adopting some Mongol methods ourselves." (Laughter erupted)
The Mongols proved ruthlessly efficient.
Upon capturing their target castle and securing new prisoners, they slaughtered all previously exploited captives.
Though Mongol troops had conquered much of the world through these methods, Mongolia's population remained sparse even at their zenith.
With only 300,000 combat-ready men available historically, they couldn't afford reckless attrition in battle lines.
Thus they deployed prisoners as vanguard labor—discarding old captives whenever new ones became available.
Robust prisoners posed rebellion risks, and proper supervision required too many personnel; once their utility expired, all enemies were eliminated.
By killing expendables, they avoided allocating guards—then put fresh captives to work on engineering projects until newer prisoners arrived, repeating the lethal cycle.

During their European campaign, the Mongol soldiers attacked Hungary at autumn's peak when the five grains ripened bountifully across the land.
As residents fled to the mountains upon hearing of the Mongol advance, the invaders proclaimed this exodus troublesome through official edicts.
They issued decrees vowing no harm to Hungarians returning from mountain refuges to their villages. When the people cautiously returned, the Mongols admonished them: "You fools leave treasure rotting in your fields! We shall never plunder you—harvest your crops!" The Hungarians rejoiced and reaped their grain, only to be gathered and slaughtered after harvest—their yields seized wholesale.
After capturing cities, under pretext of conducting censuses, they marched entire populations beyond the walls empty-handed—permitting neither weapons nor spoons.
Mongol troops then plundered freely for seven to ten days.
With defenders removed, no resistance remained.
They delivered all loot to the Spoils Officer for bureaucratic division according to predetermined ratios—laughter erupting at this administrative rigor.
Though allowing residents to return post-looting, they found homes stripped bare.
Fearing rebellion from these hollowed communities, the Mongols slaughtered them during these suburban assemblies.
Thus in Urgench—Khwarazm's fallen capital—they purportedly slaughtered 2.4 million souls.
Mohammedan chronicles record this, likely exaggerated yet undeniably vast in scale.
Herat too suffered—of 1.6 million residents, legend claims only sixteen survived their blades.
They massacred multitudes,
mowing lives like summer grass.
In global annals of slaughter, none surpass the Mongols' grim tally.

The above pertained to civilian populations; on battlefields when Mongol soldiers cut down enemies—where Japanese warriors would take heads—they severed left ears instead.
Since transporting heads became impractical when slaying thirty or fifty men—a single head reportedly weighing nearly one-third of a human body—the logistics proved cumbersome.
Thus they adopted ear-severing.
They would cut off left ears from those they killed as trophies rather than claiming personal glory,bringing them before commanders to report,"This number slain," while laying out their grisly tally.
I suspect practices like neatly arraying ears for presentation originated from this system(Laughter erupts).
However,I cannot vouch for this interpretation's historical accuracy.
Accounts claim they severed 270,000 ears during their southern Russian campaign;in Silesia,the count allegedly overflowed nine large leather sacks.Finally,since one unmentioned point remains,I shall address it.

The Mongols were strong in warfare, but one weakness was fighting on water.
This was not limited to the Mongols; all northern barbarians were weak in naval battles because they were unaccustomed to water.
The Mongols did not have ships, so when they encountered water, they found themselves in trouble.
You might ask, "What did they do when crossing rivers?" Well, there were those leather bags I mentioned earlier.
They were used to store military supplies, but then they would take out the contents, float the leather bags, and cross by riding atop them.
Otherwise, they made the horses swim while firmly grasping their tails to reach the opposite bank.
With such makeshift measures, when it came to facing the sea and fighting in earnest, the Mongols were hopeless.
The Mongols may have been matchless warriors on land, but when it came to the sea, they were utterly spineless.
From that perspective, Japan might have been stronger than the Mongol soldiers in both naval and land warfare.
On the sea, Japanese soldiers were certainly stronger.
Now, this weakness in aquatic matters wasn’t unique to the Mongols—even within China itself, there was the saying “south for boats, north for horses,” and it must be said that northern Chinese people were utterly inept at waterborne operations.
South of the Yangtze River, people became accustomed to water and rode boats.
Therefore, even among the Chinese, those originating from the north were utterly inept in water.
Even today, those who volunteer for the Chinese navy are more numerous among people from south of the Yangtze River.
As seen in works like Romance of the Three Kingdoms, during the Battle of Red Cliffs, Cao Cao of Wei led 800,000 troops while Zhou Yu of Wu commanded 30,000—a massive conflict where even Cao Cao, hailed as the greatest strategist of his time but being a northerner by origin, found himself helpless when it came to naval engagements.
The Yangtze River was said to be up to two miles wide in some places, but after all, it was a river flowing through inland regions—its scale was ultimately limited.
Moreover, when Cao Cao of Wei's forces boarded ships, they feared the vessels' rocking and ultimately devised what they called the "interlinked ships strategy"—a plan befitting Chinese ingenuity—where they chained together numerous small boats.
Admittedly, the boats were small, but by chaining them all together, they formed what resembled a large ship, so they boarded them with the confidence of being on a great vessel (Laughter erupts)—but when that very formation was set ablaze, there was no way for them to flee.
That’s how they suffered a crushing defeat.
Even the Chinese were like that, but since the Mongols were located even further north, they were all the weaker when it came to water.

Thus even the Mongols themselves openly stated that while they had no match on land, in water they would lose even to the Song people.
Song was a weak southern country, yet they openly declared they could not defeat even them.
However, since in our Kōan Invasion it was these feeble Mongols who came forth, even without the divine winds of Ise, it naturally followed that they were doomed to suffer a crushing defeat.
The enemy forces that came during the Kōan Invasion numbered 140,000—110,000 from China and 30,000 from Goryeo—but among them, the Mongols were weaklings at naval combat as I mentioned; the Chinese conscripts resented Mongol command; and the Goryeo troops were reluctant participants. Thus none could fight at full strength.
Therefore, the outcome had been clear from the outset.
The Mongols proved utterly inept at naval warfare—when Korea once warred with them and its king fled to Ganghwa Island lying just offshore within sight of the peninsula, Mongol forces attacked it for thirty years yet failed to conquer it—such was their feebleness on water.

The talk grew quite lengthy and I became tired, so I'll leave it at this.

(Meiji 38 [1905], June, July, and October issues of Meiji Gakuhō)